You Can Lead a Horse to Water
by Rebecca O'Lachlan
Summary: A King Arthur/Pirates of the Caribbean crossover, and the sequel to The Gildatore.
1. Chapter 1

**You Can Lead a Horse to Water…**

A _Pirates of the Caribbean_/_King Arthur_ Crossover

The Sequel to _The Gildatore_

31st October, 1722

The Atlantic Ocean, English Territory

"Crowd on more sail!" Commodore Norrington shouted, almost drowned out by the roaring of the wind and the crashing of the waves and the ripping of the sails on the foremast of their ship, _The Knight Errant_, as the hurricane raged around them.

"Are you mad?!" Lieutenant Gillette screamed at him, holding desperately onto the railings on the quarterdeck to stop himself from sliding away. "The sails are too heavy as it is! If we put any more on the masts, it'll be _them_ that tear away!"

"Is that insubordination?" Norrington thundered at him, from where he had chained his feet to the deck in front of the ship's wheel in order to keep from sliding downwards as the ship was tipped nearly vertical with each gargantuan wave.

"For God's sakes, Commodore! Sparrow will have had to drop anchor as well! Not even he could sail through a hurricane! We won't lose any ground on them!"

Norrington shook his head. "But we need to _gain_ ground on them. The _Black Pearl_ is the fastest ship in the Caribbean!"

"For the sake of your crew, Commodore, please! We'll all die if we don't stop and baton down the hatches!"

Norrington shook his head again. "Onwards! We must catch Sparrow!"

The ship's mizzenmast tore off the deck of the ship with a terrible groaning noise and plummeted into the water below on a particularly enthusiastic wave. Water poured into the hold of the ship through the hole and, when it washed out again, it carried most of the crew with it. Gillette screamed and clung to the railing for dear life, but Norrington ignored it, his eyes fixed on a higher purpose.

He would catch Sparrow and get his life back if it was the last thing he ever did.

--------------------------

1st February, 468 AD

Britannia (No longer a part of the Roman Empire)

Stonehenge

Arthur, Cynric and Lancelot sat next to each other in the middle of a circle of determined bachelors and various females, an island of stillness in the bustle and the disgustingly commonplace antics of the rest of the knights. Jessamine, Guinevere and the rest of their girls were off cooking for the post-nuptial midday celebrations – or at least, Jessamine was watching everyone else cook. She had never fit into a single female stereotype that Lancelot could think of, except perhaps the one that said that women were temperamental.

On the horizon, stormclouds roiled and thunder muttered distantly.

Arthur grinned at Lancelot. "Do you regret it?"

Lancelot shook his head and shrugged. "I don't think it will make that much difference, really. She drinks almost as much as I do, so I'm one up on you two there."

Arthur sighed. Guinevere and Ytria had had a big talk a while ago and decided that they should try and stop their husbands from drinking. This has prompted much name-calling, mockery and general mickey-taking from the knights and, to the girls' disgust, Gilioneron, but they had both, by some miracle, managed to stay away from alcohol for a whole five days. This was longer than Arthur had gone without drinking since he was sixteen, mostly because this had been when he had met the knights.

The girls started walking back towards them holding a few big plates of food and trays of drinks.

Gawain turned to look over his shoulder at the approaching Egreyne and held up his tankard. "More wine!"

Galahad grinned at him. "Or milk, for Arthur and Cynric,"

The knights guffawed loudly in a drunken manner and Arthur looked at Cynric. "I never remember being that rowdy when I was drunk,"

"That's because you never remember anything after you've been drinking, Arthur," Bors said, and belched loudly. "You got no stomach for it."

Tristan nodded. "It's a Roman thing. They can't stand anything stronger than their weak, diluted wine."

Bors nodded happily. "Give a group of men a wineskin full of koumiss, and you soon discover who the Sarmatians are, eh? Oh, and Scythians, too, of course."

Cynric laughed. "That's because no one except the Sarmatians and Scythians will even drink koumiss, Bors. It is possibly the most disgusting drink in the world."

Gawain blinked at him and then laughed as well. "You think we like the way it tastes?"

Dagonet shook his head. ""You'd have to be mad,"

"Yeah," Lancelot said, taking the tankard of wine Jess handed him. "We only drink koumiss so the wine tastes better."

"I always wondered," Jess said, perching on Lancelot's knees, "whose blood it actually is that's in it."

Galahad looked puzzled. "Well, it's ours, of course,"

She raised her eyebrows. "Of course,"

'So, whose blood have you drunk, Jessamine?" Lancelot asked her, grinning.

She swallowed, and then looked as if she wished she hadn't. "Possibly… Galahad and Tristan's,"

He laughed and handed her the wine, which she took a large mouthful of.

"The best thing about koumiss is that you can basically make it on a battlefield," Tristan said, quite seriously, and Cimmeria glared at him.

"Please. I think we've definitely exhausted the conversation possibilities of this topic."

"What were you talking about?" Guinevere asked, turning up with another tray of food.

Ytria shook her head. "You wouldn't want to know, believe me."

"Ah," Guinevere said, nodding, "koumiss."

She turned to the dainty, dark-haired Wode girl standing behind her. "All right, Nemetona. We'll just send for more when we need it."

Nemetona nodded and set the tray she was carrying in front of Dagonet.

Although she had become a good friend of theirs since Jess's return to the fifth century, Nemetona was in many ways even more of a mute than Tristan. When she did speak, it was quietly, and every contribution she made was serious and thought provoking. Sometimes it made things confusing, going from the silent, attentive Nemetona to the rowdy, near incomprehensibly drunk Bors, but so far they were managing to cope all right.

"Has anyone seen Gilioneron?" Jess asked, looking over Lancelot's shoulder to see if she could spot him among the wedding guests.

"He's probably off getting some poor Wode girl into trouble somewhere," Lancelot said indifferently.

Guinevere sighed. "Nemetona, could you please go and see if anyone is missing?"

Nemetona nodded and walked away through the crowd.

"Does she _ever_ talk?" Gawain asked, shaking his head at her.

"You don't care that Tristan and Dagonet hardly talk," Cimmeria pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's different," Galahad said, affronted. "They're warriors. They're not _meant_ to talk. Women practically have to, to even qualify as women."

"And no one listens to a word of it," Tristan said idly, seemingly oblivious to Cimmeria's hurt glare.

Eunyphore sighed, and then stood up and walked away. After a moment, Cimmeria followed her.

"Not the most tactful of discussions to have started, Galahad," Cynric said, shaking his head.

Lancelot snorted derisively. "Not that anyone's ever accused him of being intelligent – or, for that matter, tactful – especially when he's drunk."

"What?" Galahad asked, confused. "What did I say?"

Jess looked at him. "How can you… my God, I can't believe this. One day when I've got the time – and the patience – I'll have to tell you all about the Equal Rights Amendment."

"The what?" Dagonet asked, curiously.

She sighed. "It's a very long story. And today's my wedding day _and_ my birthday, so I'm certainly not going to do it now."

Gilioneron appeared behind Dagonet, with his arm around a young Wode girl's shoulders. "I think we'd better move this party indoors, kids. Looks like it's going to storm soon."

Lancelot looked up at the sky. "That's probably a good idea,"

Arthur nodded. "I'll go and round everyone up."

Guinevere sighed. "I suppose someone needs to get the food inside as well,"

Everyone went off to help with various jobs, leaving Jess and Lancelot to walk across to the longhouse that had been set up just north of Stonehenge in the months since she had been back in England. It had started out being built mostly to Wode specifications, with a thatched roof and mud-reinforced walls, but Cynric and Ytria had taken a look at it and now it was a luxurious Saxon house with stone walls three feet thick and two levels.

"They were kidding about it being human blood in the koumiss, weren't they?" she asked him, somewhat apprehensively.

He laughed and nodded. "Yes. It's animal blood. What Tristan meant, when he said the battlefield thing, was that where there are dead men there are always dead horses as well. You cook the meat because there's nothing else to eat, and you put the blood in the koumiss. It's definitely not human blood."

She sighed in relief. "Thank God. You know I wouldn't have let you drink it ever again if it had been human blood."

He nodded again. "Yeah, I know,"

As they walked, Lancelot reached down and took her hand. "You're eighteen today?" he asked her.

She nodded. "And now I can legally drink1 and smoke. And vote."

He looked confused for a moment. "Oh, you mean in your old world."

She laughed and nodded again. "Sorry. And, I just thought I should let you know, I don't exactly share Guinevere and Ytria's views about drinking."

He sighed in relief. "Oh, thank the Gods,"

She shrugged. "Arthur seems to be coping pretty well,"

He snorted. "That's because he's a Roman. Drink is practically a part of our religion. Well, koumiss is, anyway, and you can definitely get drunk on that."

She nodded. "I know. I am a priestess of your religion, you remember."

He laughed. "I always forget that. I can't keep you in both the 'from another world' bracket and the 'one of Gilioneron's finest' one. I mean, you fit into them both, and you can do them individually, but I can't put the two together."

She nodded again. "It is a bit strange, when you think about it."

They walked for a while longer and then he took a deep breath and looked at the ground. "Listen, I was thinking of maybe moving out of our quarters in the fortress. You know, have a whole place of our own, now that we're married. In case one room isn't going to be big enough, er… if you catch my meaning."

She smiled at him. "Do I detect a man who's getting broody, Lancelot?"

He coughed, embarrassed. "Well, I mean, it's going to happen sometime, isn't it? And besides, I hate that stupid room. All I can think about when I'm there is all those years I spent in the Roman army."

She nodded. "I think it's a good idea, too. So long as we don't farm anything."

He laughed. "How do you feel about breeding horses?"

She thought about it. "Horses is fine, but I can't stand sheep or cows. And I would not know where to start with crops."

He shrugged. "I can get some people to help me with that."

She stood silently for a while and threw her arms around his neck, squealing in delight. "This is great! And I bet we can even get Arthur to give us one of the abandoned Roman villas! Those are amazing!"

"Oh, Gods," he said, in horror, after looking over her shoulder at the approaching group of snickering knights, and then started to drag her into the house.

"They have heated floors, Lancelot. Heated floors! Do you know how good that would be in winter?"

He glared at Galahad and Bors, who were laughing at him, but secretly he was just as excited as she was.

---------------------------

Captain Jack Sparrow sat at his navigating desk and hoped really hard that he was charting the correct course back to Tortuga. For all he knew, they could be heading towards where the chest of Davey Jones was buried, or where you could find the key, or… somewhere else. He really, desperately hoped it wasn't the last one again; there had been that really embarrassing incident where they thought they were going to the Isla de Muerta and he had only just managed to steer clear of Port Royal.

It would be fine if only Tia Dalma had actually given them directions, instead of just telling them that their ship knew where it was going. And it had, sailing due south and southeast for a while, before they reached the area where Davey Jones' newest recruits were found. But he had no sense of timing, because he couldn't stay awake all the time (and drink has a tendency to make the time go by faster than it actually does), so he didn't know how far they were from anything. They were sailing blind, and Jack hated that.

He felt a momentary pang of regret and sympathy for Will, who he had left on the _Flying Dutchman_. If only bloody Jones had let him take the boy with him, things would have been so much easier. As it was, they were already in trouble, a big part of Jack's genius plan that he was regretting ever concocting being the finding of the chest of Davey Jones – and they had no reliable way of doing so. He did think, though, that it would benefit Will in a small way; at least he would get to meet his father.

And at least now they had the full run of the ocean without having to dread the attack of the Kraken. That was the only thing Jack could think of that they had in their favour, because the chances of being able to obtain 99 souls in Tortuga seemed unlikely.

Out on the deck he could tell that Gibbs would be trying to convince what remained of their crew that everything was going to be fine. Ragetti, Pintel, Cotton, little Marty and Leech, all fine men – but they hardly added up to ninety-nine souls, even if Jack had been willing to trade them in. He wasn't even sure if they had _five_ souls between them, although if you added the parrot you could probably bring Cotton's count up to a full one, and maybe you could argue that Marty's soul was just a little smaller than normal.

He thought about Ragetti and Pintel and made a mental note to ask any applicants if they had ever been cursed at any time in their lives before accepting them. He also made a note to try and bargain on the parrot being one individual soul, and wished they hadn't left the damn monkey with Tia Dalma. In their situation, Jack would have cheerfully bargained to keep the woodworm in the bilges, in case they could be of any help.

His life would have been so much easier, he thought, sighing, if he had never met Elizabeth. He'd have talked his way around those damn navymen and then he could have been blissfully on his way with a new ship, a crew for which he would have obtained in Tortuga, he'd have sweet-talked Anamaria, and then everything would have been fine.

Instead, he'd been put in prison twice, roped into confronting Barbossa (admittedly getting the _Pearl_ back, but still), marooned on the same godforsaken island as before, nearly hung, trapped inside the Isla de Muerta as it sunk, chased around the Atlantic by bloody Norrington through that stupid hurricane, made into a chief who needed eating by the Pelegostos, and been put on the Kraken's most-wanted list.

And he didn't know it yet, but his life was about to get even more complicated. It was soon going to involve Curiosity, a gildatore, a farm girl, the King of the Britons and the ancient Greek God of the sun.

1 In Australia, that is.


	2. Chapter 2

All of the food, drink and guests safely inside the Saxon longhouse, the party continued, and although Jess noticed Bors and Galahad smirking at Lancelot she decided to ignore it and not embarrass her new husband.

Dagonet was looking concernedly out of the door, frowning at the thunderstorm. "It's getting pretty violent out there,"

Bors shrugged. "That's why we came in here,"

Dagonet nodded, still looking out the window. "Yes, but I was thinking that it might be a good idea to bring our horses into the stable instead of leaving them tethered to that tree out on the field."

The knights, Arthur and Jessamine all crowded around the window to get a look, and then, as one, sprinted for the door.

Cynric sighed and shook his head. "Sarmatians,"

Jessamine and Arthur, being the least drunk, reached the tree before anyone else and slid their way in between the panicking horses. Bartatua turned to the sound of Jess's voice and then calmed down as she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll have to do the other horses before you, all right?"

He looked at her through his nostrils and laid his ears back at Tabiti, who had just tried to kick him.

Arthur fumbled with the knot holding Thagimasadas' reins and turned the horse around to face the stables, knowing that he would go straight for Bors as soon as he saw his master. Jess did the same with Tabiti, Papaeus and Argimpasa, and the three greys galloped hell-for-leather towards the now waiting Gawain, Galahad and Tristan. Lancelot and Dagonet came up to the tree as well, untying Api and Saka, and she and Arthur both dealt with their horses and mounted before starting to gallop back towards the longhouse stables.

Thunder exploded like an earthquake around them as a huge bolt of lightning struck the ground near the tree, and Palagius spooked, slipping on the now-wet turf and rolling sideways down a grassy bank with Arthur still in the saddle. Jess heard the crack of the horse's breaking leg bones as he slid and the scream of the dying animal, and turned Bartatua's head to face the direction of the disaster. No matter what the weather, you couldn't leave anyone after an accident like that, especially not a friend.

Lancelot and Dagonet had been too far away to hear anything, and Gawain had been in the stable, but Galahad and Tristan had been facing them and started sprinting towards Arthur, ignoring Lancelot's attempts to find out what was going on.

"Arthur?" Jess called, swinging off Bartatua's back in the pouring rain. "Oh, Gods, let him be alive. Arthur?"

"Jessamine?" she heard him call from further down the embankment, and she slid down in the mud – ruining her wedding dress in the process – and nearly tripped over the body of Palagius.

There was another huge crack of thunder and Bartatua whinnied in distress, sliding down the muddy slope on his knees. Jess looked at him in confusion. _On his knees?_ What sort of horse did that? She shook her head at him and ran over to Arthur, who was laying a few metres away from his horse, on his back, breathing hard.

"Are you all right?" she asked him, kneeling beside him.

He didn't answer. "How's Palagius?"

She shook her head. "No horse could have survived that, Arthur. He's dead."

"Arthur!" Galahad shouted, stumbling down the muddy bank with Tristan in tow. "Thank the Gods you're alive!"

"Where's Lancelot?" she asked him.

Galahad waved an arm towards the house. "He's fetching Guinevere,"

"How are you?" Tristan asked Arthur, and he shook his head.

"I think I've broken all of my ribs,"

Jess sighed. "Better than your pelvis. Or your skull,"

A lightning bolt landed at the mouth of the gully they were standing on and Jess shook her head in disbelief. "What the hell is going on? Lightning is attracted to high places. This is a gully,"

There was silence as the four of them looked around at the enormous amount of pure metal in the small gully, making where they were standing essentially a large conduit for electricity.

"We have to get moving, Arthur," Galahad said desperately, helping him cautiously to sit up. "Can you walk?"

Arthur shook his head, and then looked as if he regretted it. "And I'm not leaving without my sword,"

Jess hurried over and unbuckled it from Palagius' saddle, trying not to look at the pool of blood that was spreading from the horse's head or at the crazy angle at which his neck was bent. Tristan and Galahad helped Arthur to his feet, and Jess felt the air go still around them. Bartatua could feel it, too, she could tell by the way he shifted uneasily, but the three boys seemed preoccupied, so she took the sword over and handed it to Arthur.

He dropped it, and they all bent to catch it, Jess holding onto Bartatua's reins as well.

In the moment when all four of them touched the sword, the world around them erupted in light, and the sound was enough to deafen, and then everything went black.

------------------------------

William Turner was working with the rest of the _Flying Dutchman_'s crew, hauling on the rigging in the pouring rain, lightning crashing above and around them on the stormy sea. As one, the crewmates felt the air around grow still.

"Keep at your posts!" the bosun shouted, wielding his whip on an unfortunately close half-shellfish man.

They kept hauling, and Will closed his eyes as the enormous thunderclap obliterated all sound and the lightning both obscured all vision and caused every cell in his body to ache. He wondered vaguely if it had been attracted to the only person on the whole ship who wasn't cursed, and then everything went black.

-----------------------------

Former Commodore Norrington and former Lieutenant Gillette sat on a beach some way from the pirate city of Tortuga in the pouring rain. They weren't even drinking – yet. Norrington looked at the sea and wished that he had never even thought of proposing to Elizabeth. If he hadn't called her out to the balcony, she wouldn't have fallen off, and then she wouldn't have met Sparrow. And then they wouldn't have captured him and Turner wouldn't have been able to go to him for help and if none of that had happened Norrington would at least have had something. _Anything_.

Not that a job would have been much consolation if he still had it now, but it was more than nothing. That was the point, though; anything was more than nothing.

"Should we go in, sir?" Gillette asked him, trying to mop some of the water out of his face.

Norrington glared at him. "Don't call me sir."

Gillette frowned, and then nodded conspiratorially. "Oh, right. Wouldn't want to give away our disguise, eh si… I mean, James."

Norrington sighed. Gillette, despite his many good points – all of which seemed to be failing Norrington's mind at the moment – had gone slightly mad on the disastrous voyage which had taken them through the hurricane. His mind simply refused to believe that they had resigned their commissions, and instead he had made himself believe that they were going undercover in Tortuga as pirates to look for Sparrow there.

Norrington hadn't had the heart to tell him that he was wrong.

As they sat on the beach, Norrington felt the air go still around them and sighed. Maybe it _was_ time to go inside.

He was so numb – both physically, from the cold, and emotionally, from his disastrous life – that he didn't feel anything when the lightning bolt hit, but he did notice that everything went black. Gillette felt considerably more, but it was cushioned by his mind latching on to the pretty lights. He was rather disappointed, when it all ended.

----------------------------

Lancelot, Guinevere, Gilioneron and the others arrived at the mouth of the gully just after the lightning strike. Guinevere screamed when it struck but the sound was lost in the roar of the thunder and the pounding of the rain.

The rain stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, but from the gully there was only the sound of metal clinking as it cooled gently. Lancelot started towards the muddy slope that had been everyone's way in, but Gilioneron put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"You really… don't want to go down there, Lancelot,"

Guinevere wailed and threw herself at Lancelot, wrapping her arms around his neck, but he was too shocked to even move.

"There has to be somebody who can do something!" he shouted at Gilioneron. "A God of… death or… or lightning or something!"

Gilioneron looked at him in confusion. "They're not dead,"

Guinevere looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "What? But you said Lancelot shouldn't go down there!"

Gilioneron nodded. "Because there's still electricity in the air and Lancelot's wearing metal."

They looked at him. "Where are they?" they said, at the same time.

Gilioneron shrugged. "They've all gone to different worlds," he frowned for a second. "Including Bartatua, for some reason."

"Are you telling me that the lightning strike transported Jessamine and Arthur back to her world?" Lancelot asked incredulously.

Gilioneron paused for a moment. "Not exactly her world. But another world, yes; and Tristan and Galahad are gone, too."

"What?" Cimmeria said, pushing to the front of the crowd, followed by Eunyphore. "Where?"

There was silence for a while, as Gilioneron evidently tried to figure out what had happened, his lips moving as he stared off into space. Guinevere let go of Lancelot awkwardly and went to stand beside Cimmeria and Eunyphore.

"Right," said Gilioneron, coming back to the present. "So far as I can tell, it's like this…"

---------------------------

Fulwood was lying down somewhere, and it was raining on her face. As she swam through the seas of pain towards the shore of consciousness, she became vaguely aware of a cold, biting wind, and the sound of waves crashing against rocks somewhere near her. She put a hand to her head in a vain attempt to quell the headache and then sat up, wiping the rain out of her eyes.

She was lying on a beach, thus explaining the wave noises. One thing she couldn't explain was how she had got there, seeing as Toowoomba was on a mountain, but after a while the events that had taken place earlier that night swam up to greet her, waving cheerfully and making her feel like a complete idiot.

She should have been paying more attention! God, it had been her that had figured out the way to do it in the first place. She shook her head, and then regretted it, and had to once again mop some water out of her face so that she could see.

Lying some distance down the beach was a bedraggled figure wearing a once-beautiful dress that seemed to be half-covered in mud. Fulwood sighed, and struggled to her feet. She would know that blonde hair anywhere. As she watched, Jess groaned and put a hand up to her face, and then sat up suddenly.

"Arthur?" she asked, putting her head in her hands as the shock hit her. "Tristan? Galahad?"

Fulwood laughed dryly. "Not quite,"

Jess looked up. "Fulwood?"

She nodded. "Yeah,"

"Where are we?" Jess asked, looking at her ruined dress in resignation.

Fulwood thought about it. "As far as I can tell, we're in the world where _Pirates of the Caribbean_ is real."

Jess looked at her. "How did we get here?"

Fulwood coughed uncomfortably. "Well, I can tell you how I got here. As for you, well… there I'm not so sure."

Jess sighed and held out her hands, and Fulwood helped her to her feet. It was only then that Fulwood noticed another figure lying on the beach, behind where Jess had been.

It was a man, tall and clad completely in black, with fine golden hair.

Fulwood pointed to him. "A friend of yours?"

Jess looked at him and shook her head. "Never seen him before in my life,"

They exchanged a look. "He's wearing clothes that look sort of piratey," Fulwood said, apprehensively.

Jess nodded. "That's what I was thinking. Maybe he's just a drunk."

The man groaned and put a hand up to his head. "Oh, Zeus! I haven't had a headache like this for centuries!"

They looked at each other. "Definitely not from here," Jess said firmly.

They walked over cautiously – just in case – and as he sat up they both thought that there was something vaguely familiar about him. He looked up at them, raised his eyebrows at Fulwood, and then focused on Jess.

"Hello," he said, grinning.

Jess shook her head. "Who are you?"

He hauled himself to his feet and then promptly fell over, swearing. "By Zeus, once you get used to four legs going back to two is damned difficult."

"_What_?" they asked at the same time, and then Fulwood turned to Jess. "He must be mad,"

The man shook his head as he stood up successfully this time. "On the contrary." He held out a hand for Fulwood to shake. "My name is Apollo, although you might possibly be better acquainted with my _nom de guerre_ – Bartatua."

Fulwood was still confused but Jess's mouth dropped open, and she made several strangled noises before she could finally come up with anything to say.

"_Bartatua_? But you're a… a human! And Bartatua's a horse!"

He grinned at her confusion. "Only temporarily, my dear. You see, among other things, I am the ancient Greek God of prophecy. And I had a dream one night that told me that I was needed in Britannia in the form of a horse. Who was I to argue?"

Fulwood looked at Jess. "Is he really your horse?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know. His information so far is correct, and I don't know how anyone could possibly know my horse's name… but still." She turned to him. "Prove it."

He laughed. "Your name is Jessamine Azure Turner. You are a gildatore, you are – as of today – married to Lancelot, a Sarmatian gildoryae, you dislike the cold, and you have had, in your short life in the fifth century, three arrow wounds, one crossbow bolt under the ribs and many and varied wounds at the hand of Kelermes."

Fulwood looked at Jess incredulously. "Three arrows _and_ a crossbow bolt?"

Jess shrugged. "Not in the same battle,"

"Where were the arrows?"

Jess laughed. "Why don't we let Apollo tell us?"

He inclined his head. "Left shoulder, stomach and right thigh, I believe."

Fulwood looked at Jess. "You don't seriously think he's actually Apollo, do you?"

Jess shook her head. "How else could he know all this?"

"Maybe you talk in your sleep," Fulwood suggested, but Jess shook her head.

"Look at him. The black clothes he's wearing, they're not even black. They're _more_ than black. Black is less black than that. I think he is who he says he is."

Fulwood sighed, and then thought about everything the man had said. "You got married today?"

Jess sighed and nodded. "Yes. And by the looks of things I'm not ever going to have my wedding night."

Fulwood looked at the ground. "Sorry,"

Jess shook her head. "It's hardly your fault."

Fulwood coughed uncomfortably again. "Actually, I think it might be. We were watching _Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End_, and I was on the phone with Airi… and it was stormy…"

Jess frowned. "Am I beginning to see a pattern emerging here?"

Fulwood nodded. "I think so."

Apollo stepped forward. "We are indeed in the world which houses this _Pirates of the Caribbean_ that you have mentioned, but things are considerably more complicated this time than they were when you traveled to my world, Jessamine."

Jess looked at him incredulously. "More complicated than having to save the world from a soul-sucking gildatore from another universe?"

He nodded gravely. "It will take some time to explain."

--------------------------

The universes existed in what is technically an impossible shape, a layout in which every universe was technically alongside every other universe, all at the same time. In the times of the ancient Celts, especially those living in Ireland, travelling between universes was not uncommon, and for every human that went through into the universe of faery creatures, a leprechaun would appear in whatever universe they had come from.

This is because the universes must at all times be balanced. Jess's situation had been difficult, because theoretically the universe she went to hadn't existed until she had gone there through association with the movie, so there had been no exchange made – until Kelermes had gone through, balancing things. But Gilioneron had taken her soul back to his world to keep an eye on her.

It had put both universes under considerable strain, however, because of the massive amount of fractured temporal/spatial matter that now encompassed them, and Fulwood's transferal to another as-yet-non-existent universe had caused the trio of worlds to have what could probably be referred to accurately as a mild case of hysteria.

The world Jess and Fulwood came from (which shall henceforth be referred to as World A) had lost two people, and so took two people from the world Jess had gone to (World B). Then, World B was short two people, so it took two from the world the three of them were currently in (World C). Things were by then so confused that World B and World C had simply swapped one person each, and Apollo had merely been caught up in the spatial/temporal storm.

Not only that, the confusion was to do with time, as well as space, so the two people going to World A would arrive about two hours after Fulwood had disappeared, the three people going to World B would arrive about ten minutes after Arthur, Tristan, Galahad and Jess had left, and the people going to World C had arrived at an entirely different time from the one they should have been going to.

Theoretically, in the first spatial/temporal fracture, Jess had arrived in World B at around the same time it had reached in the movie. Fulwood, however, had been watching _At World's End_, and they had arrived in what they were fairly sure was _Dead Man's Chest_, because Apollo could tell that they were in a place called Tortuga. According to Apollo, another person from World B had arrived in World C in a different place, three people from World C were landing in World B, and two people from World B were going to end up in World A.

After all of this, the fact that the man in front of them was a God tended not to bother Fulwood so much anymore.

----------------------------

Jess was pacing back and forth in front of Apollo, her hand over her mouth. She turned to face him suddenly. "Are you telling me that Pascoe and Campbell are going to have to hide two Sarmatian knights in a girl's boarding school?"

Fulwood sighed. "Oh, dear,"

Apollo nodded. "That's not the worst of it. Another person – one of Tristan, Galahad and Arthur – is somewhere in this world. I don't know exactly where. I can't even pinpoint exactly when, so they could theoretically be here a thousand years before us. By themselves."

Jess put her head in her hands. "And three people from here have gone back to Britannia."

He nodded. "I don't know who they are, but two were here, where you landed, and one was where whoever the other person here is landed."

Fulwood stood up. "We need information. We need to know exactly when we are, because we can't form an opinion based on the fact that we're at Tortuga. We need to go into the city and see if we can find out what Jack's been doing. If we're lucky, he might even be docked. Then, we can stay with him until we find Tia Dalma. She's sort of a goddess, isn't she?"

Jess looked at her. "Is she?"

Fulwood waved her hand. "You haven't seen it,"

Apollo thought about it. "If she is a goddess, she can tell us how to get through to the other universes."

"What about you?" Jess asked him.

He shrugged. "I'm not from here. Each universe has it's own different trigger. Yours appears to be solar winds. And DVD's, for some reason."

Jess nodded, and then looked down at her muddy dress. "We're going to attract quite a bit of attention dressed the way we are."

Apollo frowned, and then grinned at her. "I'm sure I can come up with something."

Fulwood looked at him. "You can make clothes?"

He shrugged. "It's not that hard. And, technically, I'll only be taking them from another as-yet-non-existent universe."

Jess shook her head. "This is unbelievable. It's more complicated than Physics, and I didn't even do a science at school!"

Apollo looked at Fulwood. "You might attract a bit of attention in a dress that's the height of fashion at this time, so I could get you something a bit less flashy."

She shook her head. "Sailor's clothes will be fine, thank you."

He shrugged. "Have it your way."

"Is this where you got your clothes from?" Jess asked him.

He shook his head. "I'm a God, so when I'm in human form I automatically end up wearing clothes that let me fit in. It's too complicated. More temporal adjustment stuff."

Jess sighed. "Don't tell me then. I have about as much information for tonight as I think I can handle."

He grinned at her and then closed his eyes, concentrating hard.

Fulwood and Jess stood next to each other on the beach, not quite sure what to expect, until they noticed a small pile of clothes on the beach beside where Apollo was standing. They didn't appear; they just seemed to fade into the foreground, as if they had been there the whole time but the girls hadn't noticed them.

Apollo opened his eyes and grinned at them. "Do you believe me now?"

Jess laughed weakly and then they went to see what choice they had. There was a long pair of boots each, and a pair of breeches and a rough linen shirt, but from there Apollo had catered to taste, Fulwood selecting the bluish-green waistcoat and the heavier leather sea coat, while Jess took the red waistcoat and the lighter jacket.

They stood holding their choice of clothing, looking uncomfortably at Apollo, until he eventually sighed, shook his head and volunteered to go and find a way in to the actual town of Tortuga.

They struggled into their new clothes – which, thankfully, hadn't had time to get sandy yet – and then looked at each other. Jess shook her head.

"We look like idiots,"

Fulwood shrugged. "We don't look too bad,"

"We need to do something about our hair, for a start," Jess said, critically, and then noticed two hats lying on the sand. "Were those there before?"

Fulwood shrugged again. "Does it matter? It solves our problem, doesn't it?"

Jess sighed petulantly and picked up one, tucking her hair up into it rather savagely.

Fulwood looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Jess flashed her an angry look. "Gee, I don't know, maybe it's the fact that it's not only my wedding day but also my birthday and everything's gone wrong! I may not get a chance to see Lancelot for a long time. What if we're in Tortuga in _The Curse of the Black Pearl_? It could be ages before we find Tia Dalma!"

Fulwood sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry,"

Jess shook her head. "I shouldn't have gone off at you like that. It's just that I feel undressed without a sword, after all this time of being a gildatore."

Fulwood looked at her in confusion. "You weren't wearing a sword under your wedding dress,"

Jess nodded. "Yeah, but there were two on Bartatua's… I mean… Apollo's saddle."

"I can't believe he's actually your horse," Fulwood said, sitting down on the sand.

Jess shook her head. "Me neither," she shuddered. "I've used him as a screen to get dressed behind, sometimes."

They both shook their heads, and then Jess sat down beside Fulwood. "So, how's 2007 been? 2008, now, of course."

Fulwood shrugged. "No one's stopped talking about you going missing. We had to tell Mrs Scott you'd done a runner."

Jess laughed. "How's the orchestra coping?"

Fulwood snorted. "What orchestra? Now that you're gone, they haven't got a composer, a bass line or a captain. No, we're terrible. You know I can't play the viola."

Jess nodded. "Got a new ancient history teacher yet?"

Fulwood shook her head. "Mrs Anderson has only just gone on maternity leave. They appointed this new guy but he's been 'unavoidably detained'. His brother was in an accident, or something. So we're having a substitute teacher until he can get here."

Jess laughed again. "I don't miss it. Don't miss it at all. I mean, technology is nothing compared to freedom. I can do practically whatever I want, aside from stupid things like killing people without a cause or whatever. It's awesome. Well, it was, anyway."

They were silent for a while, and they hardly noticed Apollo return until he handed Jess two swords, complete with scabbards, straps and buckles. She unsheathed one, looking at the blade, and then looked up at him in amazement.

"These are my swords. Not ones from here. Where did you get them?"

He shrugged. "They were strapped to the saddle."

She shook her head in exasperation and then stood up in order to sling them across her back, underneath the jacket. "Thanks,"

Fulwood stood up as well and motioned towards where they could see the distant lights of Tortuga. "Did you find a way in?"

Apollo nodded. "It's quite a walk, but if you ladies aren't averse to exercise…"

Jess sighed and shook her head at him. "You idiot. I'm a gildatore and she lives on a farm. We know how to handle exercise."

She and Fulwood began walking in the direction of the lights, and Apollo stood still for a moment before following them, shaking his head and smiling to himself.

-----------------------------

Davey Jones sat in his cabin, looking at the unconscious body of Arthur, and fumed. At first he had thought it was one of Jack Sparrow's tricks, but he could sense that there was something bigger than that at work here. Something bigger than them all, and it was obvious by the man's clothing that he wasn't from the same place they were, unless the new fashion in England included armour again.

Not only that, Jones was angry because he'd had a big chunk of leverage removed. The boy had obviously been a friend of Jack's, or he wouldn't have tried to bargain to get him back, and now he was gone. He wasn't sure where, but he knew it probably wasn't a place that was easily accessible, and he also knew that that meant Jack would claim he was a soul up on the bargain.

Jones sighed. He would keep whatever it was that had replaced the Turner boy, just for the sake of it, even if it didn't speak the same language. It had to be of some use, although it looked as though all of the man's ribs were broken, if Jones was any judge – and he prided himself on being able to tell the severity of a man's injuries.

He sighed, and turned back to his organ.

----------------------------

Gilioneron was trying gallantly to explain the spatial/temporal fracture theory to Lancelot and Guinevere when they suddenly heard someone groan from the gully.

Lancelot looked at Gilioneron. "Is that them?"

Gilioneron shook his head. "That's… someone else. From another world."

Gawain, Dagonet and Bors picked their way carefully into the gully, and came up dragging three wet-looking men wearing extremely outlandish clothes. Two of them were still unconscious but the third tried to stand up when they set him on the ground.

"Where am I?" he said weakly, from his hands and knees.

"Britannia," Lancelot said, helping him up. "In another world."

He looked around at them all. "Am I dead?"

Gilioneron shook his head. "Not quite. May I enquire as to your name?"

He looked around at them again, warily. "William Turner,"

Gilioneron nodded. "And the men behind you?"

Will turned and looked at them, double taking in surprise when he saw one of them. "This man," he said, rolling one of them over onto his back, "is James Norrington. The other… one of his lieutenants. I don't know his name."

Gilioneron nodded again, and sighed. "Now, I think, it is time the explanations were given. Again."

---------------------------

Pascoe and Campbell were rifling through Fulwood's things, trying to find her ancient history assignment. It was more than two hours since she had disappeared, and they were beginning to panic.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Pascoe asked, and Campbell shrugged.

"Tell them Fulwood ran away as well?"

Pascoe shook her head. "Maybe we could tell them she had to go home, because she was sick."

Campbell looked at her. "Without a note from her family? Without so much as a phone call? I don't think so."

Pascoe's eyes narrowed. "Well, maybe we could tell them that she'd been kidnapped."

Campbell looked at her. "That would be immensely difficult, Sarah,"

Pascoe's face grew shrewd. "I'm sure we could manage it. Especially with their help."

Both girls turned to look at Tristan and Galahad, flat out on the floor, still unconscious.

"I think I have a plan," Pascoe said.


	3. Chapter 3

Tristan and Galahad were perched uncomfortably on the end of Fulwood's bed, listening to Pascoe and Campbell talk. While they did so, Galahad was bouncing up and down on the mattress, because he had never sat on anything bouncy before, but Tristan was too composed to join in. When it became impossible to concentrate he gave Galahad a cuff around the ear and turned back to Pascoe.

"Go on, please,"

Pascoe sighed. "Right. Okay. That goddy person you had around last time said that this was a different world, but it might help you to think of it as, basically, the future."

Campbell nodded. "Two thousand years into the future,"

Tristan nodded but Galahad was sulking, although he did start to bounce again. "So how do we get back?"

Pascoe and Campbell exchanged a look. "Well, so far as we know, you have to wait until the Celts next sacred day."

Campbell nodded again and picked up Fulwood's assignment. "That would be… the spring equinox, on March 21st. Although it's technically autumn here, then, but I don't think that'll make any difference."

Galahad gaped at her. "But that's… it's more than a month away!"

Pascoe nodded. "Unfortunately, though, we don't know any other way. So it looks like you're stuck here till then."

Tristan and Galahad exchanged a look and then Galahad shook his head, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. "More than a month,"

"Fifty-one days, Galahad," Tristan said, and then sighed.

Pascoe coughed uncomfortably. "So, anyway. We were thinking that because we need both a way to get you out of here – meaning the Boarding House – and a way to explain our friend's disappearance, that you might be able to help us."

The two men exchanged another look and then Galahad shrugged. "What did you have in mind?"

--------------------------------

Will, Norrington and Gillette were sitting inside the relative warmth of the Saxon longhouse, and all of them wore expressions of barely concealed terror. This was mostly due to the cooking, but being transported into a different world filled with barbarians may have also had something to do with it.

They were sitting by themselves, because everyone else was doing work and Gilioneron had just buggered off. They were silent, and this was only _partly_ because of Norrington's towering hatred for Will.

He coughed, and then put down his rough wooden eating utensil covered in goop. "How's… how is Elizabeth?"

Will sighed and put down his own spoonful of goop. "Do you remember Cutler Beckett?"

Norrington nodded in confusion, and then had a terrible vision of Elizabeth running off with that marshmallow. "She didn't… leave you for him, did she?"

Will shook his head in obvious relief. "No, thank God. It was our wedding day and he came and arrested me. For the Jack Sparrow thing. He had a warrant for you as well, and Elizabeth. Death for everyone."

Norrington looked at the table, his heart sinking. "Conspiring to set free a criminal convicted of crimes against the Crown and sentenced to death?"

Will nodded. "I had to get Jack's compass for Beckett or he was going to kill Elizabeth. She's going to think that I ran away."

Norrington sighed. "Where is Sparrow, anyway?"

Will snorted derisively. "Making a getaway by now, I presume. He sold me out to Davey Jones to pay his own debts. He wouldn't give me the compass until I found him the key to the chest of Davey Jones. I wish I'd never met him."

Norrington leant back in his rough wooden chair. "I chased that bastard halfway around the goddamn Atlantic Ocean. I would have caught him, too – if it wasn't for that damn hurricane."

Will looked at him. "Hurricane?"

Norrington nodded resignedly. "I tried to sail through it. I lost my ship and my crew."

Will looked across Norrington at Gillette, who was poking at the food. "What about him?"

Norrington shook his head, and then leaned closer to Will. "He lost his mind while we were drifting, after the hurricane passed. He thought, before, that we weren't really disgraced, that we were just undercover. Lord knows what he'll come up with now."

Will raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and then leant back in his chair, and then, after a while, held out his hand to Norrington to shake. "Listen… James. I know we've had our differences, in the past, but at the moment we're the only two sane people from our world. I'm sorry for what happened but I've lost Elizabeth now, as well, and I'm not game to try and become friends with any of those barbarians."

Norrington looked at his hand for a second and then took it. "Friendship… Will?"

Will nodded. "Why not?"

Guinevere came up to talk to them and looked at their bowls of food, which were still full. "What's wrong with the food?"

Both men looked at her and then scrambled to their feet. "Elizabeth!"

She looked at them in bewilderment. "What?"

They looked at her again, more closely this time, and then at each other. They sat down again.

"You look like someone we know," Norrington said, putting his hands into the pockets on his coat for extra warmth.

"Why haven't you eaten?" she asked, again.

They exchanged a look. "This food is… very different to the food we eat."

Will nodded. "Our food is… how shall I put this? Slightly less like mush?"

"Yes," Norrington said. "Mush is a very appropriate term."

Guinevere looked at them. "It's stew,"

They exchanged another look. "Is it?"

She sighed. "There's chicken and beef, if you would rather eat that,"

"That would be good," Will said, hoping that 'chicken' and 'beef' meant the same things here as they did where he came from.

"Could I possibly have some as well?" Norrington asked.

They looked at Gillette.

"Oh, I'm happy with this, thank you," he said, smiling in a slightly disarming way at his bowl of 'stew.'

She shook her head at them and walked away.

Will and Norrington looked at Gillette, and then both turned back to face the front.

"What did I tell you?" Norrington said, out of the corner of his mouth.

Will shook his head. "You're right. He is mad."

A young girl came over, carrying a large platter that was covered in recognisable pieces of meat and even some fruit – by dint of great effort on Guinevere's part. They started eating ravenously, but Norrington stopped the girl as she was about to walk away. "That woman," he said, pointing at Guinevere. "Who is she? What's her name?"

"Guinevere," the girl replied.

Will and Norrington exchanged an incredulous look. "Guinevere?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. You know her?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Norrington asked, amazed. "Everyone knows the legend of King Arthur."

"The legend?" the girl asked, suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Will laughed uncertainly. "You know, King Arthur of the Britons and his knights of the round table. Pulled the sword from the stone, became the King of Britain. Righting wrongs, ruling the country well, married Guinevere. She ran off with Lancelot later. Any of this ringing any bells?"

He stopped when he saw the girl's face.

They followed her horrified glance over their shoulders to where Guinevere was sitting on a bench at the wall, leaning against a tall man with dark, curly hair and looking considerably more dressed up than anyone else. He was stroking her hair.

They looked back at the young girl. "I take it they haven't… actually got around to it yet," Will said, uncomfortably.

"Do you know… when it's likely to happen?" the girl asked, who was now trembling.

Norrington shrugged. "Well, Arthur goes somewhere, and while he's gone they fall in love. Then he comes back, someone tells him, and the two of them run away."

The girl stood, frozen, for a moment, before dashing away. "Oh, Gods, I've got to find Dana,"

"Perhaps we shouldn't have told her that," Norrington said, after a pause.

Will nodded thoughtfully. "You may be right,"

---------------------------------

"I miss Arthur already," Guinevere said, sighing.

"You think you've got it bad," Lancelot said, taking a large mouthful of wine. "At least you got to have your whole wedding day together."

Guinevere laughed. "It was slightly marred by the fact that we had to travel to a different dimension to save Jessamine from Kelermes."

Lancelot nodded. "Well, yeah. But at least you got to do it together."

They were silent for a while. "I wonder what Nemetona looks so worried about," Guinevere said, idly.

Lancelot shrugged. "Maybe it's those men from the other world. Maybe one of them died."

She glared at him. "Please. I have enough troubles as it is,"

"Do you realise that with Arthur gone you are basically in charge?" he asked her.

She looked at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't want to have to do work. I'm grieving."

He sighed. "Yeah, that was just me trying to get of doing work as well."

She thought about it. "Let's pass authority to Merlin. Or Gilioneron,"

It was his turn to look at her. "Gilioneron? Do you want the place burnt to the ground?"

She shrugged. "Wouldn't make much difference,"

He shook his head. "It'd smell worse,"

"Jessamine told me that you were thinking of getting some land from Arthur," Guinevere said, after a while.

He finished off the rest of his tankard with a grimace. "Look, if you don't mind, can we not talk about it?"

She nodded. "All right,"

He leant back against the wall. "How are Eunyphore and Cimmeria coping?"

She glanced at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Tristan and Galahad are gone as well," he said, feeling as though there was something he was missing.

Guinevere shrugged. "Well, I expect they're fairly relieved at the moment. They'll start to miss them in about a couple of days."

"Relieved?" he asked her, incredulously.

She nodded. "Yes, relieved. Tristan was wearing Cimmeria down. Not even a Scythian can cope with his complete silence. She was going crazy. And Galahad doesn't exactly treat Eunyphore all that well."

"Doesn't he?" Lancelot asked, puzzled. "They seemed all right to me. What does he do, hit her or something?"

She shook her head. "No, but he's just completely… oh, I don't even know what the word is. He… it's like what Jessamine was talking about earlier. You know, at the party when he said that thing about women having to talk. Sometimes he says things that really hurt Eunyphore, and he doesn't even realise."

Lancelot raised his eyebrows speculatively. "Well, we live and learn."

He frowned slightly. "You know, Nemetona still looks worried. Maybe I should go and find out what's wrong, so I can tell Merlin, who we have decided is in charge."

Guinevere sighed. "Don't worry, I'll do it."

She stood up and walked away, and he sighed and went to sit with what remained of the boys.

"We can get them back, can't we?" Cynric (who was still sobre) asked him, making a space at the table.

Lancelot shrugged. "Gilioneron doesn't know. Something about the universes needing to be balanced, and maybe if we move anyone they'll become even more unstable. They might even cease to exist, he said."

"This is a lot more complicated than last time," Gawain said speculatively, and the others nodded morosely into their drinks.

Nemetona saw Guinevere coming and hurriedly finished loading glasses onto her tray, trying to get away. Unfortunately for her, she didn't make it in time.

"Is everything all right, Nemetona?" Guinevere asked, appearing behind her.

Nemetona nodded casually and tried to make a break for it, but Guinevere grabbed her by the arm.

"Are you sure? You look worried,"

Nemetona shook her head. "I'm just busy, that's all," she said, and then wrenched her arm free of Guinevere's grasp.

She hurried away through the crowd and then dumped her tray on a table and slid out a door. The night air was cool and she was only wearing a light dress, but some things are important enough to justify near frostbite. She sprinted down the slope to the river, splashed the water on her face and then dashed down even further to Stonehenge, slowing to a walk as she entered.

Dana, Brigit and Gilioneron were standing in the centre, talking, and they looked up as she came close, their breath steaming in the frosty air. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around her against the chill. She knew Arthur, and she knew Jessamine as well. If they ever got back to find Lancelot and Guinevere sharing a bed then the two of them would be dead before they could run away. So, the solution was to bring Arthur and Jessamine back before that could happen, and, in the meantime, not leave the two of them alone.

There had to be some way of keeping the universes balanced but getting their friends back as well.

-------------------------------

They reached Tortuga after a couple of kilometres of walking, but they could smell it once they were within sight of the walls.

"Do all cities in this era smell like this?" Fulwood asked, covering her nose.

Apollo shrugged. "I don't think so. I'm fairly sure it's a pirate thing."

Jess laughed weakly. "Do you remember in the first movie how Jack said 'It is a sad man who has not breathed deep the sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga,' and then he asked Will what he thought."

Fulwood nodded. "And he said 'It'll linger.' Yes, I remember."

Jess sniffed, and then gagged. "It's lingering already,"

Fulwood shook her head. "I can't believe this. I come from a farm, and this smells worse than anything I've ever smelt."

Apollo shrugged again. "You said you wanted to get here,"

Once they were inside the town their noses had largely shut down, so moving around wasn't so hard anymore, but the noise had grown nearly deafening. People firing gunshots, people carousing in taverns, girls shrieking and laughing, people fighting. They were nearly run over by a cart at one stage, and there was mud all over the streets. They paused in what could roughly be called the epicentre; it was more of a biomass than an actual town.

"We're looking for a tavern," Jess said uncertainly.

Fulwood glared at her. "Helpful. We must have passed twenty on our way here."

Jess nodded. "But I think it's a waterfront tavern. That at least narrows it down."

Fulwood sighed. "All right, then. Let's start by finding the waterfront."

They looked around at the chaos surrounding them, and then turned to Apollo. "Can you… sense the sea or something?"

He laughed. "If you're looking for the waterfront, I would suggest you go where the ships are,"

They looked at where he was pointing, and they could just see the tops of the sails of several tall ships over the line of buildings.

They strolled through the rest of the town without any major disasters, but when they reached the harbour Jess and Fulwood stopped.

"Tell me that ship looks as familiar to you as it does to me," Jess said, looking at Fulwood, and Fulwood nodded.

It was a tall, black, three-masted galleon with black sails. No other ship in the world could possibly look like that.

"The _Black Pearl_," they said together.

"That was pretty dramatic," Jess said, idly, as they walked towards the gangplank.

Fulwood nodded. "We should do that more often,"

-----------------------------

Jack was sitting in the corner of the tavern – whose name no one knew anymore – shaking his compass furiously.

"I know what I want, I know what I want, I know what I want!" he muttered to himself, and then opened the lid of the compass.

It was pointing due south. As he watched in terror, the needle wavered and then stayed there. He sighed in relief and then looked up, along the bearing, into the eyes of Elizabeth Swann.

"Jack?"

He fell off his chair, backwards.

"Jack? Are you all right?"

He scrambled to his feet, knocking the table over in the progress. "Elizabeth,"

Gibbs, who was by now standing behind him, whispered in his ear. "I'll hide the rum, captain,"

Jack nodded briefly, and then turned back to Elizabeth, who looked even more confused then she had in the beginning. "Fancy seeing you here, luv,"

She sighed. "I came to find Will. He said he would look for you here. Have you seen him?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then recovered magnificently. "Elizabeth. It is a sad duty of mine that I have to report to you that, due to an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances, young William has been press-ganged onto Davey Jones' ship."

She stared at him. "Davey Jones? As in the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?"

He nodded. "The very one, luv,"

She shook her head. "Jack. Are you telling the truth?"

He grinned at her. "Every word, luv. But I'll explain more on board the ship. We have to sail now."

He took her arm and steered her out of the tavern, proceeding towards the rising black sails. They were met just out front of the _Pearl_ by what looked like three young men, one of whom was wearing altogether a bit too much black, one of whom had two huge swords strapped across his back, and the other of whom was normal.

"Jack Sparrow?" the normal one asked him, falling in step behind them.

"Come to join me crew lads?" he said jovially, rejoicing at the three extra souls. "Welcome aboard,"

"Looks like _Dead Man's Chest_ to me," he heard one of them mutter.

He stopped and turned to face them. "What do you know about the chest?"

The one with the swords shrugged. "Apart from that you're looking for it? Well, it's on an island called Isla Cruces, if that's any help."

He looked at them. "Who are you lads?"

The normal one laughed. "Well, first of all, we're not lads."

The one with the swords laughed as he reached up and pulled off his – her – hat, revealing a cascade of blonde hair. "Yeah. We're as female as Miss Swann here. Oh, except for him," she said, pointing at the one dressed in black.

The man inclined his head gracefully, and Jack cast him a suspicious look.

The normal one, who had also pulled off her hat, turned to Jack. "Listen. We can help you find the chest of Davey Jones. If you will agree to help us get something as well."

"Like what?" he asked, suspiciously.

"We need to see a friend of yours," the blonde one said, and the normal one nodded.

"Tia Dalma," they said, at the same time.

"That was dramatic," Jack said, slightly surprised.

The man shook his head. "They agreed to say that. It was rehearsed."

The blonde one glared at him. "Shut up, Apollo,"

Jack thought about it. "How do you intend on finding the chest? And you do know that we'll need the key, don't you?"

The normal one pointed at something below his belt regions, and he looked down. "The compass," she said, exasperatedly. "We want to find the chest of Davey Jones. You don't know what you want. We can help you."

The blonde one nodded. "Yeah, and why are you so worried about the key? That's why you sold Will out to Davey Jones, isn't it?"

"What?" Elizabeth asked, outraged, looking at him.

"What?" he echoed, realising too late that he should have denied it straight away.

The normal one looked at the blonde one. "Why did you have to say that? It wasn't exactly Jack's fault."

The blonde shrugged. "Someone has to do it! Norrington's not around to make sarcastic remarks like he was in the movie… oh, god, where is Norrington?"

"James Norrington?" Elizabeth asked, looking at them in confusion.

They ignored her. "We must have replaced Norrington!" the normal one hissed. "Oh, god, now we're in big trouble."

The blonde one noticed Jack and Elizabeth looking at them quizzically and motioned with her head towards the end of the docks. "Could you excuse us a minute? Apollo, you come as well. Don't you dare sail without us, Jack."

He nodded and walked up the gangplank and onto the ship. Elizabeth glared after him.

The normal one sighed. "Go with him, Elizabeth. He knows where Will is,"

Down the end of the docks, Jess sighed. "All right, so we've replaced Norrington. What's so bad about that?"

Fulwood sighed. "Without Norrington there, they wouldn't have had the fight for the key, because Elizabeth would have been able to mediate between just Jack and Will. Then he wouldn't have been able to take the heart to Beckett and then… oh, god, Norrington being on the ship with her and Jack is the only reason she didn't ditch Will completely and marry Jack on the spot."

Jess nodded in understanding. "'How's your latest fiancée?' You're right."

Fulwood sighed in frustration. "Where's the other person? What other parts of destiny do we have to fill in?"

"Oh, gods," Jess said, as a horrifying thought struck her.

"What?" Fulwood asked anxiously.

"They're by themselves. That means that it could be Will. Or Beckett. Or Tia Dalma! God, what'll we do if it's her?"

Fulwood frowned. "Wait a minute, Apollo. What did you mean when you said you couldn't pinpoint exactly where and when they had landed?"

He shrugged. "He's in a sort of vacuum. Time doesn't really pass."

Jess groaned. "Oh, God, he's on the _Flying Dutchman_. It doesn't matter if he's Will or Davey Jones, we're stuffed either way."

Fulwood closed her eyes and thought about it. They needed a Norrington, until they could find the real one, to keep Jack off Elizabeth, and they needed either a Davey Jones or a Will, because they needed the key. She looked up at Jess.

"Here's what we're going to do. I will stay with Elizabeth and Jack and use the compass to find Isla Cruces. If we don't give Elizabeth the compass we can possibly hold off the romance for a while longer. You and Apollo have to find a ship and get to wherever Tia Dalma is. We'll get directions off Jack. Talk to her, get all the real people back here, and then come to Isla Cruces. On the way, you'll have to pass the _Flying Dutchman_ at some point, so steal the key, and get Arthur, Tristan or Galahad off there. Then, come out onto the island, and we'll see what happens next. Okay?"

Jess nodded. "Are you going to be all right with all those pirates?"

Fulwood laughed. "If I can handle shearers, I can deal with pirates."

Jess nodded again. "Good luck,"

"You, too," Fulwood said, grinning. "But, remember, you only have two days."

"Oh, great," Jess said sardonically, and then they walked back to where Jack was waiting.

Fifteen minutes later, Jess and Apollo stood at the docks and watched the _Pearl_ disembark, holding a map that they hoped was accurate, watching Fulwood wave goodbye from the stern of the ship.

"Do you think she'll be all right?" Apollo asked her.

Jess shrugged. "I hope so, because if not she's going to get eaten by the Kraken."

Apollo grimaced. "That's bad,"

Jess nodded. "Yeah. Let's go and find a ship,"


End file.
